The Lost One's Weeping
by BlackIceReiya
Summary: I have enough, fuck it. Maths, physics, English, Japanese, Kanji? Count me out.Rated T for language.
1. Lost

School starts at 8:30 am, ends at 3:00 pm.

Tuition starts at 4:00 pm, ends at 6:30 pm.

Night class starts at 8:30 pm, ends at 10:00 pm.

And that simple schedule up there is my ghetto circle of life.

Screw it.

Now, let's see. What was the formula for counting the perimeter of an arc again? And over here I will need the…Pythagorean Theorem, I can't remember the formula. Let's see, let's see, ah yes, axa+bxb=cxc, which will make this 97x97+46x46, which makes the hypotenuse 583.1123390…by 3 decimal point will make it 583.112.

Oh, god…my head hurts.

"Rin," a girl from behind called my name.

"Yes, Miku?" I asked her.

"I'm really sorry about your boyfriend." She said sadly, "You two were so happy together, I just can't imagine…you know…"

"Thanks for caring," I said.

"Why…why aren't you sad?" She asked, suddenly confused at my expression, "your boyfriend died yesterday, it's like you don't even care."

"Move on with my life and forget the past…I guess." I replied her, still trying to solve the question.

Miku looked over me and stared at my homework, "You have got to be kidding me, you're doing math at a time like this? What is more important, Len's life of homework?"

I stared at her, not knowing what to say. She was always an emotional girl who can't stand other people's death/absences/disappearances; I'll just assume she's watched to many Korean dramas.

"You know what?" Miku stood up from her seat and walked away, glaring at my sorry and pathetic ass for a while. "Good luck with your tests."

Yeah, we have an English test three classes later, and then we have another physics test to worry about.

Len is…probably happy to escape the test now, isn't he? He loathed anything that involved formulas and sciences. Yet it was so funny how his mother wanted him to be a doctor, like he's going to give a fuck.

The stress has been tearing him apart, I guess. Died by suicide, hanged himself in his bedroom.

I got a few messages from him two days ago.

_I got 66 in my physics, and my mom actually told me to break up with you because you were interfering with my study time. She is such a bitch. Can you believe it? _

Worrying that he was going to break up with me, I sent: _So…are you going to?_

With relief, I got this: _Of course I'm not, I love you._

I smiled at the message.

But after knowing he wasn't going to break up with me, his mother went crazy and started calling my mother to talk about this "problem" of hers. Then my mother started talking to me about the future, about education being more important than love.

Of course I know that, of course Len knew that. Everyone knows education is always important. Without education, you can't go to college, you can't get a job, you won't get money, you won't get shit.

So last night he texted me.

_I'm sorry, Rin. But I've had enough, I'm sick and tired…of being sick and tired. I hope you'll understand. Maybe I'll come visit you in ghost form, just don't freak out when I do. _

_I love you Rin, I really do._

He was still trying to be funny even though he was going to die.

I got worried, so I texted him, again and again, hoping to get a response, nothing.

Next thing I knew it, he died.

I cried for… half an hour, I guess. Then my mom came in and told me to do my homework.

And I did.

I looked at the next question; it requires me to count tangent and sine.

I actually like math and science, unlike Len, so I taught him some of the formulas just so he could past the exams. But I hated learning those Chinese words, Kanji; I'm totally useless at those things. And so Len had to teach me those.

They say both is required to pass our grade, and I've always worried about not passing the exams.

Failing in exams isn't wrong, a lot of people failed at these. But it was us who made them wrong.

What is wrong with me?

The teacher came in.

"Class, today we're going to write an essay. I want you to write about yourself. This isn't just a simple introduction about yourself, but I want you to think who are you, your personality, what you want your life to be, anything that could represent you."

Easy, I heard someone said the word from behind.

Yeah, of course it's easy, writing about yourself? That's an essay I wrote when I was 7 years old, man, this has got to be easy.

Now, my personality, my personality is…

The hell, I don't know.

Fuck this shit.


	2. Forever

I still couldn't figure out what my homework wants me to do.

Even after all that has happen.

I stared at the example essays listed on the websites, hoping that I can find something useful for the essay. But there was nothing.

It was starting to get frustrating and annoying.

I took out my notebook and did something to calm myself down.

I wrote everything I know about math.

Corresponding angles, parallelograms, interiors on same side converse, chords, tangents, angles, arcs, the hypotenuse-leg congruence, mid-segment theorem, altitude rule, base angle theorem, vertical angles, substitution postulate, symmetric property, construction, the prime number theorem, the law of quadratic reciprocity, the area of a circle, the polyhedron formula, the four squares theorem, Pythagorean triples, sum of the angles of a triangle, the isoperimetric theorem, the law of cosines, the triangle inequality…

I stopped.

My whole book was filled with words that were like strangers, every letter, every alphabet, every sentence…

What am I doing with my life?

Why do I know so much about math yet nothing about myself? Why can't I even write one fucking thing about my own personality? What do I exist for exactly? To learn these fucking theorem so that I can use it in my future?

Why would I need a future, when I can't even feel myself living anymore?

Exactly how long have I been hypnotized by the society?

Exactly how long has my heart been dyed into this fucking color?

I stared at the notebook.

And what can I do about it?

How should I know?

Because I'm just a fucking nothing in this society.

I turned around and turn on the television.

"…the serial murder is on the run, and it's now wanted by the…"

Another murder again.

"…the accident happened at 3:21 pm, one adult is hurt and two kids are dead with another senior…"

Death again.

"…the popular celebrity is currently…"

Like I give a flying fuck about how the celebrity is living, I've took longer shits then their love life.

"…teenager died by suicide due to heavy stress from school. The young boy's name is Kagamine Len, who…"

I turn the television off.

Len…

Why can't I feel sad about him now? It's like he's just gone from my mind, I can't remember him, I can't cry about him, I don't feel a thing.

What exactly is wrong with me?

Is it really fine for me to remain like this?

Even so…It doesn't really matter anymore now, does it?

I stood up from my chair and walked out of my room.

Who created this society, who invented these rules, who hid the laughter, who started the mocking, who decides someone's death, who turned us into what we are now?

Is there any way we can stop ourselves from this?

I really don't think so, because that's what we are now.

I can recite the formula, yet I couldn't even feel myself now. I'd rather stay inside my comfort barrier, when I could've helped people. Other's death doesn't mean shit to me, a murder on the run is not my business, and even when the loved ones disappear, my weak love for them would only turn into nothing.

That's how useless I am now.

And why am I even satisfied with myself?

That once innocent, happy child that was unaware and clueless about this painful reality, where is she now? The one filled with dreams of flying around, the one who would stare out of the car window and imagine that there's a person running outside just to destroy the boredom killing them, the one who believed that heroes exist, the one who believed that there are kind people in the world, where is she now?

Probably dead somewhere in my memories, thrown inside a drain, left to rot with no one to remember her.

The attic smells of dry wood and animal corpse.

A long string of rope lay on one side.

I picked it up.

When will you grow up and realize that this is reality, that this is what life is, that no one would miss you even if you disappear?

What the heck is 'growing up' anyway?

What have we turned into?

Who threw all those dreams away, who destroyed every precious imagination that was in our memories, who killed the innocence that dwelled inside our hearts, who wanted to grow up in the first place?

We did, didn't we?

I tied the rope together.

Who should I ask these questions to?

What should I do?

It really doesn't matter anymore now, does it?

* * *

"…another teenager found dead in the attic…hanged herself…a last note found beside her…"

_"I'm lost."_


End file.
